Tales From the Loony Bin
by frostedbutts
Summary: His name is Tweek Tweak. He is a 'psycho' at Ocean View Loony Bin, and he wants out.
1. No Sharps

Tales From the Loony Bin

Rating: PG-13 or T

Disclaimer: I do not own South Park. I don't own, so don't sue.

Summary: 'My name is Tweek Tweak. I am a psycho at Ocean View Loony Bin, and I can't have any sharps.'

A/N: I should be continuing 'Tutor' right now, but I really like this idea. This is also influenced by the book _Cut_, which I don't own either. Once again, don't sue me!

---

Chapter One - No Sharps

I am awoken from my slumber by a knock at the door to my 'room'.

"Tweek, are you ready to be escorted to the cafeteria? It's breakfast time, dear." A sweet voice echoes from outside.

When I first wake up, I'm in a daze. It takes me a few seconds to register everything in my mind; where I am, what I'm supposed to do today, even who I am.

"Tweek? Are you okay?" The voice says, opening the door. It's Stella, who is here to take me to the cafeteria so I can have breakfast, then get all my medication.

I sit up in the bed and scratch the back of my head. "Uh, yeah. Can you give me a minute? I have to change and stuff.." I stand up.

"Of course. I'll be back in about five minutes. Take all the time you need." She smiled a little bit, then stepped out the door. It shuts with a _swish_, and then I watch her walk down the hallway out the little window on my door. I already know it's locked. All of the doors are locked from the outside.

I walk over to my little mirror and bathroom area, trying not to awaken Darren, my 'roomate' as they called them. He's horrible in the morning. He was here for the same reason as I, he was just here longer. I am the newest arrival to the Loony Bin.

Alright, it is not called a loony bin. It is called Ocean View Juvenile Psychiatric Ward. Except there was no ocean view. And 'psychiatric' helped remind me that I was a psycho, so I didn't want to call it a psychiatric ward.

I open my cabinet, on the left side of the mirror. Darren's is on the right. He told me one day that if I ever touched anything that was on his side he would rip my guts out. So I try to avoid him, because getting my insides ripped out of me does not sound like fun. I open a drawer on the cabinet and pull out a pair of jeans, boxers, and a plain black tee-shirt. I change and put the clothes I fell asleep in the other night in a bag labeled 'LAUNDRY' and set it by the door. I think that by now we should be 'allowed' to wash our own clothes, but whatever. I change into my clothes and slip on a pair of worn-out checkered Vans. I try to brush through my wild, blonde hair, but the comb gets stuck in my hair numerous times. I slam the brush down. I look at my wrists; there are scars all down them.

I need to cut. Now.

But I get that urge every morning, around this time. I have to fight my urge. That was why I was here. To get better.

I knew I was hurting myself. But what the fuck, I mean, it's my body. If people can get tattoos, then why can't I make my own? On one arm, I have carved 'LIFE' and on the other, 'SUCKS'. There are also other random cuts, because I didn't have any more room for words.

Once I am finished brushing my teeth, I hear a knock on the door again, then it opened.

"Ready?" Stella asked with a weak smile. I nodded and followed her out. I can't imagine how much it must suck to work here. She was really nice, though, and I couldn't argue with that. She looked to be in her early twenties. She's got long, dark hair about to her waist which she sometimes wears in a ponytail and sometimes in a bun. I love it when she wears it down, though, it looks so soft when it's down.

Finally we are at the end of the hallway, and two double doors. She opens them and I walk in after her. "Here we are, Tweek. I'm going to go get Darren now. You go on ahead in and eat with your friends."

The cafeteria is monitored as well, by two older women. One looks like she's fifty-something, the other in her thirties. They have been watching the cafeteria for as long as I could remember. One was named Maryanne and the other one, well, I couldn't remember her name. She was kind of weird, anyway. Like I'm one to talk, right?

I go through the breakfast line and get the usual at first; a plain biscuit, an orange juice, and an apple. Then I notice that the waffles are on a tin plate. If I break off a little peice of it, it'll be a good, sharp edge.. Without another thought, I pick up a waffle as well. I sat down at a table next to some other teenagers. The ages range from Cara, who is fourteen and an anorexic, to Mark, who will be eighteen in a month and is a 'druggie' as the others called him. I just turned seventeen last week.

I sat next to Melinda and across from David. David is a cutter, like me, and is sixteen, I think. Melinda refused to tell me why she was here, but I think she's a druggie.

"Hey, Tweek, didja see the waffle plates? Bet they could cut pretty good.." He says quietly, so Maryanne can't hear him, who is standing at the opposite end of our table.

"Uh huh," I say, nodding. I kept eating.

"Ugh, that Cara can be such a bitch.. I bet I could kick her ass." She mumbled with a laugh.

"What happened this time, Mel?" David perks up. Melinda flips her black hair over her shoulder.

"This morning I told her she needed to put on weight, then she was just like 'Yeah, well you're just a stupid pot-smoking whore'. Can you believe it? That was the best she could come up with. Then I was like, 'You're a stupid bitch,' and then April heard and said we didn't get any free time today. It's all Cara's fault." She kept going on, but I tuned her out and stopped paying attention. April was another 'nurse' here. She was kind of mean, but I didn't see her much because she usually monitored the girls' rooms.

When we are dismissed to get rid of our lunches and go back to our rooms, I be sure that I break off a peice of the tin plate. It seemed odd, because tin was considered a 'sharp', and we couldn't have sharps. Especially cutters. I looked around me, then slipped the peice of metal in my pocket. I smiled in satisfaction, following everyone else out of the cafeteria as normal.

When I get back to my room, I look up at the whiteboard and read:

'Tweek - 12:00 PM, Group discussion in lobby. 1:30 PM, report to library for session with Laura. 2:30 PM, Lunch. 3:30 PM. Free period in library, and get any schoolwork from main lobby when excused.'

I sighed and sat down on my bed. The clock read 11:03 AM.

Darren was making his bed. I saw Stella walking down the hallway. This place is so boring, I want out. But I've been wanting out of here for almost four months now, and I feel like a caged animal.

Hello, how are you? My name is Tweek Tweak. I am one of the assorted psychos at the Ocean View Loony Bin. Except there is no ocean view, and it is not a loony bin. It is a 'Juvenile Psychiatric Ward', and I do not get to have any sharps.

--

A/N: This isn't gonna be too long, maybe 4 or 5 chapters as of now.. It's just gonna be Tweek telling about how he got into Ocean View, and about his stay there. Review or flame or criticize or whatever you want to call it. Thanks so much to all who took time to read!


	2. Laura

Tales from the Loony Bin

Disclaimer: ..I don't own South Park Nor do I own the book _Cut_, the book that greatly influences this.

Rating: PG-13 or T

A/N: I noticed I mix up past and present tense alot.. Thanks to Risita for pointing this out, I'm gonna try not to do that as much.

And a few other thank yous..

Thanks SO MUCH for 450+ pageviews on 'Tutor'. Whoever read and/or reviewed, thank youuu. I'm gonna get the next chapter of it up soon. 

--

Chapter Two - Laura

--

I'm watching the clock now, and it feels like it's been an eternity when it's only been about ten minutes. I count how many seconds I can stay still without twitching.

One, two.. twitch.

One, twitch..

I curl myself in the blankets and pull them closer to me. Find your center, Tweek..

Yeah, like that worked anymore. That had been what my parents and friends told me when I was younger. It never really did anything, but when I was like ten I believed everything. Hell, I think I stll believed in Santa. Whatever mom and dad said I went with. They could say there was a pack of rabid unicorns out in our backyard and I would've believed them.

When I was twelve, I started drinking more and more coffee. I was a fucking mess. I think that was when it got the worst. When my grades went down, my parents just put me on more drugs.

"It's for the best," my mom used to say. Thanks, mom.

Then one day when I was in eight grade, I think, I came home bawling my eyes out. I can't even remember why I was so upset. Something happened on the bus and I started crying over it. When I got in the house. I saw a note on the fridge. I wiped my eyes and squinted.

_Tweek, _

_I'll be home later today, probably not until around seven. I'm not sure how long your dad will be at work. There are some microwave meals in the freezer, make one of those for yourself._

_Love, Mom_

I was too tired to eat. I sat down at the coffee table and looked through some home magazines my mom had. Then I saw a knife with the word EXACTO on it. I picked it up and turned it around curiously in my hand. I put it lightly to my skin. No mark or anything, so I pressed harder. I jumped, feeling a sharp pain. Then it was gone. I watched the blood drip from the cut in awe.

It felt great. From that day on, almost every day I came home from school I would cut.

I didn't want my parents to find out, so I would always wear sweatshirts and long-sleeved tees, refusing to roll up the sleeves or wear a tee-shirt. No matter how hot the weather was, they _couldn't _find out. It would be my secret.

And then two years later I was washing some dishes for my mom. I had completely forgotten about the scars and rolled up my sleeves so I wouldn't get soap on them. All of the sudden my mom was standing behind me.

"Tweek?" She asked and I jumped.

"Agh! Uh, wh-what mom?"

"What are those scars from on your arms?"

---

And that was how I got sent here.

I look up at the clock, and it's 11:58. The door opens.

"Tweek, it's time to go see Laura." Laura is a psychiatrist or something, I guess. She gets an hour a day to talk to everybody here, I guess about their problems and life and shit. I get up and follow Stella to the library and study hall. Laura's sitting at the table in the back corner of the room, smiling sweetly at me. I don't return the smile; I just keep my head down and walk over to the table. I pull out a chair and sit down. I hate talking about my life; I should have privacy. It's _my _fucking life.

Her smile fades slightly, then, "How are you today, Tweek?"

I just shrug and don't make any eye contact with her. I want this hour to be over. I don't want to talk about my life. I don't want to talk about my family or about coffee or about cutting. Expecially about cutting. But to my disgust, she asks me about it anyway.

"Tweek, can you tell me about your childhood? When did you get addicted to coffee?"

I remember, a little.

I was, I think, eight and a half. My parents got me into drinking it. I'm too tired to go into any detail or talk. I just sigh and keep my eyes on the floor, looking at the pattern in the carpet. It's these little blue and green squares. They get bigger then smaller then bigger again.

"Okay, we'll move on if you don't want to talk about it, Tweek." I hate how she is. Using my name alot and trying to be too nice. I know she wants to get the fuck out of here as much as I do.

"Can I ask you a question, Tweek?"

Didn't give me much of a choice there, now did you?

But I shrug and pull threads out of the sofa chair I'm sitting on. It's got a really ugly pattern, like the floor and everything else here.

"Why did you start cutting?"

I huff and throw a thread to the floor, watching it disappear on a blue carpet square. What time is it, anyway? I sit up and look around for a clock, seeing one above a bookcase.

12:31. Halfway through. I might as well say something.

"I dunno." My voice is so weak, I can hardly get the words out. "It.. Uh, I don't really know." I clear my throat and squirm in the chair. She adjusts the glasses on the bridge of her nose and sits up straighter.

"Did it relieve stress?"

Did it? I don't even think I can answer that. I guess it did, that one day I came home. It was out of boredom the first time I did it, though. Then later when I realized how good it felt I did it alot, usually when I was upset. So I guess it did kind of relieve stress.

"Yeah, kinda." I wiggle my toes in my checkered Vans, counting the black squares on them, then the grey ones.

"When did you start cutting alot?"

I guess I was fourteen or so. It was about then that I realized it was like an escape. I was trying to quit drinking coffee then, much to my parents' dismay. Then they just put me on more medication and shit, so I needed something to keep my mind off of it.

So I cut more and more. It was almost as good as coffee.

"A few years ago..." I mumble, shrugging. She nods, then stands up. The hour isn't even up yet, but she's leaving?

"Thank you, Tweek. We'll pick up on that tomorrow, okay?" I nod and start to turn away, then:

"Wait."

I turn around. She looks me in the eyes and I immediately look down at my shoes again. "I'm only trying to help you, Tweek.. You don't have to shun me. I'm not going to hurt you, okay?" She says. I just nod again, slowly.

I wish I could believe that. I walk out of the library, hating this whole stupid place, wanting nothing more than freedom.

--

A/N: Okay. I tried to keep it all in present tense. And I'm trying to make the chapters long.

-H.


	3. Free Period and Group

Tales From the Loony Bin

Disclaimer: ... NO. MATT AND TREY'S. NOT HAILEY'S. D8

Rating: PG-13 or T

A/N: Tutor is on hiatus. Sorry. But anyway, whutevah. I do whut I WAUNT. And keep the reviews coming. YOU GUYS ARE AWESOME. -faints-

- -

Chapter Three - Free Period and Group

- -

I'm in my room again, now. I got out of the library pretty early. Everyone else is out somewhere, like the people with weight and food issues are outside getting exercise. Since I'm back early, I just kind of get to sit here for a bit until group.

I stare up at the clock. 11:41. I think Darren's at anger management, and I can understand why. A month or two ago, when I was still kind of new here, he punched me in the face for something. My mom found out a few days later and argued that Darren was 'unstable' and shouldn't be around other teens. Then _his _parents found out, and Ocean View suggested that he be sent to the North Wing.

That's where the _really _crazy people go.

And then when his parents found out about the North Wing, they got pissed. They said he was perfectly normal.

Well, if he were normal, he wouldn't be in a fucking loony bin, now would he?

They eventually dropped it altogether and left us as roomates. I didn't really care; sure, I had a black eye for a few days, but I could get over it.

I look at the clock again; 11:52.

There are some guests with food and weight issues. We're called guests here, by the way, which I don't get. If we were guests, it'd be like a hotel. Stay for a night or two, then pay in the morning and go.

But anyway, there are these three anorexic girls, Cara, Millie, and Stephanie, and there's a really, really fat guy named Wallace or something.

Then there are drug abuse guests. There's Darren, whom I've already talked about, and there's Shawn, this short kid with a really annoying screamy voice. And Melinda, who I sit with at lunch sometimes.

Then the rest of us are just assorted psychos. Cutters. There's me, Mark, and Natalie.

Finally, there's a knock at the door.

"Tweek? It's time for free period. Everyone else is already in the library." Stella's muffled voice says. I lift myself off of the bed and to my feet. I open the door and she's there, putting on a fake smile.

"Alright, let's go. Family night is tomorrow night, you know."

Shit.

"I'll bet you'll be glad to see your parents again, huh?" She says as we walk down the long corridor.

"Uh, yeah. How long i-is it this time?"

"I think an hour or so.. All of the guests will gather at the main lobby."

"Oh.." I say as we near the library. I open the door and step in as it slams behind me.

I really don't want to talk to my parents again. I don't want to know how long I'm going to be here, because I know they're going to tell me. Then they'll ask me how things are, which is a dumb question.

If _you _were in a loony bin and someone asked you how you were doing.. What would you say? 'Oh, it's _great. _I think I only have like two years left. We got to eat with plastic knives yesterday! Knives! ..And my roomate punched me in the face last week..'

You get the point.

I browse the shelves of books. We don't get to check out the books, because cutters have tried to cut themselves with the paper before. Papercuts. It's easier to do then you'd think.

I'm glad it's summer, because during school years, we have to pick up any work or homework from the front desk. I hate it because half the stuff I haven't gotten to go over, and I don't have anyone to ask questions. Or any teachers, obviously, so I can't ask 'Could you explain that again?'

But I usually get just mediocre grades, anyway. It's not a huge change.

Most of the books here are motivational. Books like 'How To Get Over Depression'. Or 'Sewing For Self-Motivation'. Some of them are worth the read, though. But 'Stop Cutting Through Meditation' was bullshit.

My eyes scan the room. Cara, Millie, and Stephanie are sitting at one table talking and giggling about something. Wallace, Darren, and Matt are at another table, whispering. The wooden chair looks like it's going to snap under Wallace's tremendous weight. I turn away to the bookcase, tyring not to laugh. Out of the corner of my eye I see him turn around and scowl in my direction, so I bury my face in the book.

Natalie and Shawn are at a table in the corner. Natalie's flipping through an encyclopedia and Shawn's biting his nails nervously. I sit across from them.

"Hi," I whisper, smiling weakly. Natalie returns the smile and Shawn just averts his gaze again, chomping the skin around his nails.

"Hey. How are things?" She says, looking back down at the encyclopedia. I shrug.

"Okay, I guess. Family night's tonight."

"Augh. Dammit." She runs a hand though her short black hair.

"I know. I'm looking forward to it about as much as you are."

"I wonder how much longer we have here, you know.."

I check the clock. "Uh, f-forty five minutes--" I begin, then she shakes her head.

"No, I mean how much longer we have to stay here at Ocean View. We've been here like half a freakin' year now." She turns the page in the book, propping her elbow on the table. She lazily rests her chin in her hand, yawning.

"Oh. Our parents should know.. I just don't wanna find out."

"Neither do I. I think maybe another half a year I can deal with. I haven't cut recently, and I talk during group.. You'd think they'd release me for good behavior or something. Like a prison."

I don't have many friends here. I talk to Matt sometimes, but I only see him at breakfast and lunch. He's okay. I talk to Melinda, but it isn't like I enjoy talking to her. Usually she's really annoying, acting like she's the best damn thing in the world. You're in a crazy house. Get over yourself.

Then there's Natalie, who I see at lunch, free period, and I sit by her in Group. Did I explain group? I don't think I did.

It's where everyone, er, all the 'guests' gather in the lobby. There's this one psychiatrist girl, Leah, who's referred to as the group leader. We all get to discuss things that happened in the day. Not that any of us _want _to. There are some guests that speak up during like the first ten minutes, then Leah just picks random people to talk about things. Like, if it was their birthday or something, they can talk about that. It's really annoying, though.

She notices all body language, too. Like if you lean back in your seat, she knows that you don't want to talk. If you lean forward, you want to. If you twiddle your thumbs or bite your nails, you're nervous, but you want to. If you have long hair and you start messing with it, then you're bored. It pisses me off because she can be looking at one person, like she's going to ask them something. Then she starts talking to someone else. She sees everything.

I notice that it's already 12:57. The door to the library opens with a clank and everyone takes notice as April stomps in. She clears her throat and makes her way to the middle of the room.

"Everyone report to the lobby _immediately! _Group starts in three minutes!" She practically screams and I jump. Natalie laughs a little, putting the encyclopedia on a shelf and following me out the door and all the way to the lobby.

We all sit in seats according to our problems. Like, all the weight issue guests sit together in a group. To the left of them, right next to Leah, are the drug abuse guests. And beside them are cutters. People like me and Natalie.

I sit down in a wooden chair between Mark and Shawn, who keeps fucking twitching and squeaking. At first I think it's the chair, but then I figure out it's him. He keeps ramming into my shoulder, too, which is annoying as hell. I know he can't help it, but you'd think that maybe he'd scoot over just a _little. _

After some chatter, Leah finally steps into the room, in a long flowy black skirt and a blue button-up blouse. I don't really like her. Her shoes swish across the carpet as everyone shuts up and sits up straight; even Shawn tries to keep still. She sits in a wooden chair, her usual spot. She flips her long, auburn hair over her shoulders and smiles, eyes scanning the circle.

"It's good to see that you're all here early today.." She pauses momentarily to clear her throat. "Family night is tonight.. Any expectations? Any thoughts about how it might go?" She looks over the circle again. I lean back and stare at the carpet, hoping I don't get picked.

"Any volunteers?" She says. There's alot of nervous fidgeting in repsonse. Finally Melinda huffs.

"Fine, fine, I'll talk." she says, as if we were begging her to speak. "I don't think we should expect anything, really. You know, then you're not dissapointed or anything." Her eyes move to her feet. "I'm looking forward to seeing my family, though.. I miss them alot. I want to talk to my mom and dad and little sister again.. I can't wait to get out of here."

Cara speaks up. "..Neither can I.. Oh, sorry for calling you a bitch this morning."

"Don't swear, Cara," Leah says firmly, annoyed.

"It's okay. We all have to get along here, right? It's no use fighting if we're forced to be together like this." Melinda replies, voice suddenly weak. Then I notice her eyes are watery. A tear drops to the carpet.

"So, would anyone else like to share any comments?" Leah says after Melinda wipes her eyes with the back of her hand. Natalie nods, leaning forward.

"I agree with Melinda about getting along. But I'm not looking forward to family night. I don't want to know how much longer I have here. It's not that I like being here or anything, it's just that I'm afraid.."

"Afraid of what?" Shawn says shakily, as his entire body twitches and shakes violently.

"The answer. You know, how much longer I've got. It might be like a few weeks and that's great.. But what if things have gotten worse and I don't know it? I haven't cut since before I came here.. And hell, that's an improvement right there. I've gained confidence, friendships.. I actually feel kind of sane now. But you never know.. I'm afraid." She concluded, so quiet that it's almost in a whisper.

It seems that when you come here, you get weaker. You could be tough and have a huge ego, but therapy is going to tear you apart.

"If there are no other comments, you are all excused for lunch." Leah gets up from the rocking chair. Stella enters the lobby from the hallway. She escorts everyone to the cafeteria

I get up wordlessly, not knowing what to think about later or the group session.

Therapy tore me apart.

--

So sorry this took so long.. If I said I was busy, I'd be lying. I was just.. not motivated to write.

-H.


	4. Family Night and Craig

Tales From the Loony Bin

CH. 4

Rating: PG-13 or T

Disclaimer: I don't own South Park or the book Cut.

A/N: Soooo sorry it's been taking me so long to update. It's just that I've been trying to get my scanner to work so I can get a deviantART page finally and.. I've also been drawing lots. Oh, and swimming. Once again, thanks to all who reviewed and/or read.

Chap. 8 for Tutor is also in the works.. I've been writing little bits here and there of it, so that'll probably be up within the next week.. or two. Seeing as Tutor has maybe two chapters left, I'm gonna try and finish that before I finish this. I'm not entirely sure how many chapters this is going to have.. But I know where the story's gonna go. I have it all planned out, just too lazy to write it all.. So here's some of it.

Lots of angst here. I just reread all of the past chapters and noticed how sad and stuff they were. Sorry if you hate angst, but.. yeah. I like it. So there. :

- - -

CH.4 - Family Night

- - -

The evening came quicker then I thought it would.

We're all being rounded up and sent to the lobby now.

The door to my room opens and Stella peeks in. "Come on boys, your parents are here.. They seem happy to see you." She smiles and holds the door open for us as we both walk out, Darren first and me not close behind.

I walk down the long corridor, shaking nervously. Darren looks over his shoulder and laughs. "What the hell's wrong with you?" He smiles, showing all of his yellowy teeth. I cringe and look away, still shaking. I fold my arms across my chest tightly as a feeble attempt to stop.

When we're finally in the lobby, Stella shows me to a couch first. My mom and dad are there, as well as two other guests I didn't expect; Clyde and Token.

"Hi, mom, hi dad.. Hey guys," I say, sitting between my dad and Clyde. My mom reaches over and ruffles my hair. "Tweek.. How are things?"

".. I don't like it here." I say flatly, biting my lip and looking at the floor. My dad frowns.

"They say you're doing alright, but if you keep.. resisting treatment.."

"Resist wha-?" I begin, looking up suddenly.

"Resisting treatment. They say during group and when Laura talks to you, you don't talk much. They need you to open up more or you're never going to get out, Tweek."

"..Oh.. um.. oh." Is all I can say. Clyde looks concerned.

"We're, uh, sorry, Tweek.. We can't wait for you to get out, though. School sucks and everything, but.." He smiles weakly.

"Yeah, we want to see you again. It'll be pretty cool, you, me, Clyde, and Craig.. Just hanging out." Token adds.

"Wait, wait.." I say. "Where is Craig, anyways?" I look at both Clyde and Token, but it's my mom who answers.

"..You didn't hear? He got transferred here for something.."

"What! What for? What did he do?"

"They haven't said yet." Token says with a shrug. Clyde looks down and pulls at a thread on his jeans. "He told me.. But he made me promise not to tell anyone." He clears his throat, yanking the thread from his jeans and tossing it to the floor.

"But.. I'm probably going to figure out tomorrow anyway. Can't you just tell me?" I say pleadingly.

"Sorry, no. I can't. I always.. keep my word, y'know? I don't want to lie to him." He looks up at me. I don't answer, I just look to my mom and dad.

"So Tweek, have you made any friends here?" My dad speaks up.

"Uh, kinda.. I mean.. um. Y-yeah, sorta." I cough.

"That's good. It looks nice here, Tweek.. Isn't it good that you're getting better?" My mom says.

"Yeah. Sure it is." I nod.

"Think of it.. Maybe soon you'll be out and you can be normal again." As soon as she says this I feel tears forming in my eyes. Normal again? I never was normal. I watch my tear fall to the carpet and stain the turquoise color a navy blue. Clyde notices this and puts a hand on my shoulder. "I'm so sorry, Tweek.. We miss you so much and everything, and we can't wait for you to come back."

"What if I never get out?" I say as many more tears fall, making a tiny puddle of dark blue in front of my shoes. "I'm n-never gonna get out of here. I'm always going to be crazy. I'll never be normal. Why don't you guys see that? Why can't you hate me?" I start shaking again, sobbing as I do so. Clyde takes his hand off my shoulder and he and Token both sigh.

"Because we're your friends," Token says to me. "We're never going to leave you. No matter what."

And after he says this, April makes an announcement at the front of the room. "Attention! The guests will now have to report back to their rooms. Thanks to all who visited, and have a good night." I lift myself up weakly from the couch.

"Bye, son," My dad says, comforting my mom, who's wiping her eyes. Token and Clyde wave. I give a half-wave back, not even smiling. I turn around and follow the other 'guests', who stop and enter their rooms. April unlocks me and Darren's room and we both walk in. I check the clock on the wall. Nine, or time for everybody to get to sleep here. It's like fucking boot camp or something.

"Lights out, boys," She says, flicking the switch as I slip my shoes off and strip down to my boxers, putting my clothes in a plastic bag that says LAUNDRY across it. I tie the bag up and toss it to the door. Darren has already done so, and is snoring loudly on his bed. It's getting louder and louder by the second.

I huff and bury myself in the sheets, putting my palms tightly over my ears to drown out the snoring. It just gets louder, now sounding like the dying groans of a sea monster. I sit up on the bed and throw one of my pillows at him. He snorts loudly, then rolls over and the snoring ceases.

I crawl under the blankets again and curl up in a ball. I yawn one last time and I'm asleep.

--

As soon as the lights are on in our room I'm awake. I sit up and stretch and rub my eyes. The first thing I notice is that Darren isn't here.

His bed is made and there are no signs that he was ever here. I look over at the dry erase schedule board. His name and schedule is erased, and is replaced with a new name and schedule.

Craig's.

No, it can't be. It can't be the Craig I know. Before I can ponder this any more, the door opens and Stella is standing beside none other than Craig himself.

I feel my jaw drop and my eyes widen. His eyes dart to mine and he stares for a few seconds, before he raises an eyebrow. "..Tweek?"

Stella interrupts whatever he has to say next. "Tweek, this is Craig. I think I can trust you with showing him around.. Make him feel comfortable." As soon as 'make him feel comfortable' comes out of her mouth, Craig snorts and folds his arms. "How comfortable can I get in a crazy house?"

But Stella ignores this. I try and process all of this in my mind, but having woken up like thirty seconds ago, it just didn't compute. Where is Darren? There's no fucking way he got out of here. And why is Craig here? Sure, he always was kind of mean, but anger management seemed harsh. He didn't have a weight or food problem, he couldn't be a cutter, and I don't think he'd be a druggie..

I open my mouth to say something, but all that comes out is some kind of incoherent babble. "A-- buh-- why..?" I run a hand through my messy blonde hair. Stella looks confused at me, but

ignores this as well and motions toward the bed across from me. "Craig, that'll be your bed. They should have a schedule up soon on that board.. Over there." She points across the room at the dry erase board. "And don't worry, we'll make sure you get to the right room on time." She smiles sweetly and steps out of the door. "You two boys can get dressed and all ready for breakfast when we dismiss you at nine o'clock, okay?" The door closes with a _swoosh _and Craig sits on the bed. "Tweek?"

"..Yeah. C-Craig?"

"Uh-huh."

We both stare at eachother for a few moments before I break the gaze. "So uh.. I guess I should, y-y'know, show you around and stuff.." I stand up and he does so as well. "Um, why are you here, exactly?" I ask before walking across the room to the sink with the mirror, looking at my reflection. He grunts. "Fuck you, why do you want to know anyway?" He scowls, standing over my shoulder in front of the mirror.

"Oh, uh, no reason really, just.. curious."

"Well you don't need to know."

"..Kay. Anyways, we both g-get a shelf here.. And you can keep your stuff on the left side--" I begin.

"I know, I know. They explained all that. So, is this place that fucking boring?"

"Well I guess.. It's not boring.. It's kinda weird." I open the door to the shelf and pull out another bag of clean laundry, all folded neatly. That's another thing I kind of like here; everything's always neat and tidy.. And you never have to worry about losing anything. Except your mind, I guess.

He nods and sits back on his bed, also clean and the sheets made. "You've been here a long time." He yawns.

"Yeah, five months is long.. I want out of here.. It's just like being trapped like an animal and--" I start, my natural 'Tweeky' energy kicking in. "I want out!" I squeak, hearing an echo in the small room. He smiles a little bit. "You would."

"Are you crazy? Everyone wants out of here! How can you.. take something like this so .. so casually? You don't know how long you're going to be in here! A year or two or three or .." I stop to take a breath, pulling on my jeans and a dark grey tee-shirt.

"It isn't just.. a game! Life.. it isn't a game, you know!" I look up at him, who's smiling and nodding. Is he mocking me? "We're trapped in here now! Until we're.. considered 'normal again.. It's all so fucking c-crazy.."

"Yeah, you're one to talk." Is his final reply as April opens the door. "Both of you, follow me. It's breakfast." She says in a monotone. I nod and follow, Craig close behind.

I'm already hating Craig's attitude. At first I thought maybe it'd be nice to have someone I knew before here with me, but..

He wasn't who I really had in mind.

--

A/N: Two long chapters in ONE day. That should keep you guys busy for a while.. :


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